I remember when it was just trees. There were only a couple of houses, spaced far apart, in what would later be called The Lakes. The name was accurate, for two lakes sat within our confines. One was visible from the street, where cars would move past our blocks of dirt and grass and trees, craning their necks to see the few houses already built. A fountain was put in to make it look pretty and put-together.

The other lake was hidden from everyone else. Now, there is a gate with a keypad on it to make it exclusive to The Lakes residents. It’s a selling point, I’m sure; a private lake to walk your dogs off-leash. Just make sure they aren’t too rowdy or we’ll file a complaint! Back then, though, it was open. People could access it from the nearby park and take in the sunrise and sunset on the green water. It was lovely during golden hour. Still is, I suppose.

There used to be kids to play with outside. As the plots of land sold and houses slowly rose out of the dust, children appeared and gathered outside at a large Angel Oak tree far from the main road. Parents hurried us out the door and said to come back before dinner time, stay in the neighborhood, and take a shower when we got back. Remember when we were allowed to be dirty? When our clothes could stand the fun and everyone knew the day would wash off our skin as easy as our laughs poured from our mouths? Today, we’re told to stay clean, to stay out of the dirt so as not to mess up our clothes. I don’t know what changed—our age or the world’s.

We grew up together, playing Monsters and catching those green frogs with the amorphous brown spots that dotted their backs. Even though I was dared a few times, I never kissed the frogs. It was just a fairy tale, nothing more, I told myself. (Some of you kissed the frogs, I bet.)

We aged, more houses were put in, and front doors slowly closed until they were bolted at all times of the day. We stayed inside, doing whatever, doing nothing, until we moved out of our homes and only came back to the neighborhood during breaks from school.

I once saw an old neighbor, who had moved away years before, at the mall. I was with my friends from school and introduced them to her, saying this is a good friend from the old neighborhood, kind of like you hear in the movies. She looked at me quizzically, the old neighborhood?, and I nodded because the neighborhood from back then is no longer the neighborhood now.

I know one family now. They're sweet and invite me over for dinner and call me to babysit. The others I only see in the morning while they jog, crossing over to the other side of the street to avoid my dogs. They’re friendly! I used to call out, but now I just nod at them until they pass, gently guiding my dogs’ attention until the neighbor has passed.

It used to be that neighbor was synonymous with friend, maybe even family. Now it just means a person who lives next to or very near you.